


Her Vhenan; Her Da'len

by 4minutesleft



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Depression, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-27 02:20:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6265783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4minutesleft/pseuds/4minutesleft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ashawyn Lavellan grew up isolated from her clan, befriending spirits, which she fondly called her Da'len.</p><p>When she meets Solas, who shares a similar outlook on life, she knows that she has met the one.</p><p>Eventual Third Person that turns into First Person so there will be feels. Also I'm currently playing through as Ashawyn (never done a Solas Romance too so keep the spoilers light and the chocolate heavy). She will be my last character I play for a while too (I've nearly 800 hours on DA:I).</p><p>Events will follow right through until the end of Trespasser.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: The Keeper’s Aravel

When Ashawyn was six years old, she felt the safest in the Keeper’s aravel. When her magic manifested, she was taken under her Keeper’s wing and she found solace within its walls; it was the only place in the camp that was constantly away from prying eyes and whispers. Her clan poorly masked their fear of her with a flimsy facade of sad looks and words of concerns.

  
_She’s so young. To be without parents and to have magic manifesting so early? She will lead a troubled life,_  they would murmur when she walked past them, while she clasped tightly to the Keeper’s hand. At such a young age, she couldn’t verbalise how their actions made her feel, so she would hide from them in the aravel when her emotions overwhelmed her, hoping that they would be happy the next time they saw her. It never worked.

The aravel was the only place she would felt comfortable enough to dream. Spirits from beyond the Veil would come and talk to her while she slept. They would tried to tempt her to leave for the great unknown, beyond the comfort of her favourite walls for a better life. Their queries were always met with other questions before they were given a friendly wave goodbye. This fifteen-by-twenty foot world decorated with the various things the Keeper had accumulated, was the only world she wanted. It was out of bounds to everyone, with the only exception being the keeper and herself when the clan set up camp.

Occasionally, she would hear members of the clan walk by, but she knew that they were not trying to seek her. Ashawyn distracted herself from the voices that hammered on the walls by playing with the tiny Wisps that she pulled through the Veil. They would dance excitedly around her, fascinated by her and the world she brought them into. 

She called them her Da’len as she watched them flitter across the walls of the aravel, just as her keeper called her. She told them she would protect them and be all of their mothers while they shrilled excitedly, feeding off her energy. Her Keeper warned her that all spirits, great and small could harm her; but to her, the spirits were her only friends in a world full of people that murmured and frowned at her.

She would never let any harm come to them and she knew that they would protect her.

 

When Ashawyn was ten years old, she sat in the Keeper’s aravel, reading a book she had stolen from the Keeper’s First's bag. Her Da’len floated lazily above her, trilling softly while she hummed a bird call to them. In her eyes, stealing his book wasn’t wrong, especially when taking it was the only way she could find answers to her questions that he refused to answer. The First would always dismissively wave her away when she asked questions about the Fade and life beyond of the camp. It made her upset.

She spoke to her Da’len about the problems the First made for her and the Keeper as she read. They bobbed up and down, listening to her concerns as the frequency of their trills rose and fell with her emotions. She told them if he had just answered her questions, she wouldn’t have to take his things.

She told them that the First was a  _bad man_. That he would always  _s_ tomp through the camp to the Keeper’s aravel, demanding answers from her about where his missing things were from behind the doors. She asked her Da’len if they would help her make the bad man leave her and the Keeper alone forever. They flashed brightly as they heeded her words. As she opened the aravel’s door, they gently floated away into the forest, their light trills slowly turning into a low buzzing noise as they made their way over the tree tops.

The First did not return to camp that afternoon. By night fall, hunters were sent from the camp to find him. As the morning sun rolled slowly over the camp, Ashawyn washed her hands in the river by the campsite while her clan stood around the First’s bedroll, wondering who had placed the dirty pile of oddities on top of it.

 

When Ashawyn was nineteen years old, she sat in the Keeper’s aravel, admiring her new Vallaslin in a golden hand mirror as her Da’len floated enthusiastically around her face. She excitedly told them that she had chosen the design of Dirthamen, the elven god of secrets and knowledge. It was to serve as a constant reminder to herself to invoke his wisdom.  

She only had one more trial to overcome before she was officially named the Keeper’s First. 

She excitedly told her Da’len about all the new and fascinating books that she would get to read when she became the First while they hummed approvingly in unison. As the spirits drew closer to her, she made out the name  _Lady Annalisse Bernard III_ engraved on the handle of the mirror underneath various scorch marks. She sighed as she wrapped a piece of silk around the handle.

Fire magic was always the hardest magic for her to control.

 

When Ashawyn was twenty-seven years old, she crouched on a stairwell in the Temple Of Sacred Ashes, missing the warmth of the campfire and her tomes on ancient Elven artefacts. Despite her multiple protests, Deshanna had sent her to the Conclave with strict instructions to observe, gather intelligence and leave without being detected. _She was not to linger._

A low trilling noise rang out from across the hallway. She looked up and saw a Wisp glide towards her. She opened her left hand as soft smile formed on her lips. It chirped excitedly as it landed on her palm and she opened her mind to its memories. Clear images of walls, windows and a long winding corridor filled her mind before the vague outline of what appeared to be a door manifested in front of her. She opened her mind to the Fade as she touched her right hand to her head. The outline of the door glowed an ominous green as the vision dissipated from mind.   

She asked the Wisp if it heard anything ominous come from behind the door; it responded by emitting a low buzzing noise. Her mouth twitched as she felt fear wash over her. The wisp floated off her hand as it began to shiver from eagerness, anticipating her next command. She thanked it before she dismissed it. The word Da’len formed on her lips as she saw it melt back into the Fade.

 _Old habits die hard_ , she thought as she stood up to investigate the danger.


	2. The First Day, the Frost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first day is always the hardest.

**I don’t want to be here.**

Those words circled my thoughts, they begged me for their release, but I denied them their freedom as I walked through Haven for the first time. There was too much at stake for me to say such petty words.

The Inquisition of old was declared reborn, and I, once a prisoner of its founding members was welcomed into the fold. Cassandra, steadfast in her faith told me that she believed I was sent to save humanity through their god.

“Providence. The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour,” she stated, the conviction in her voice filled the room, quelling all future questions on the matter.

Their determination to stand against the chaos, despite all odds piqued my curiosity.

“If you are truly trying to restore order,” I began, determined to hold my voice steady despite the fear that churned my stomach.

“Help us fix this, before it’s too late,” Cassandra said as she extended her arm.

 _Perhaps not all is lost_ , I thought as I shook her hand _._ At the time, I had only agreed to help restore order as I feared that any other answer would mean my eventual death once they had no further use for me.

Or before the magic of the mark killed me.

I left the Chantry, searching desperately for somewhere that would feel familiar, a place where I could feel at peace. The grounds outside the camp were my last hope as every inch of Haven was buzzing with excitement as the foundation of the Inquisition was being laid. I stole away through the gates of Haven and walked through the woodlands just beyond the encampment.

I listened to the trees as the wind whipped through their leaves. Their song sounded distorted, as though as they were in pain. I crouched down and closed my eyes as I ran my hands through the snow, recalling a time when the world around me felt like home.

It was a time when luscious vegetation pushed its way through the fertile earth. My clan trudged their way through the forests while the pleasant scents of herbs washed over us. We were blinded by dandelion fuzz when the wind whipped through the trees, laughing while we sneezed. Ivy slithered over the walls of ruins of forgotten human cities. We would pause to watch the sunlight dance over them as we drank in the serenity. Our aravels were greeted by the touch of leaves from the trees that towered high above us. Spirits trilled happy melodies as they explored with us. My home, my clan, _my da’len;_  at that moment, they all seemed like a distant dream.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I stood up to return to the encampment.

When night came, I found solace in my cabin despite its foreign nature. Its wooden walls looked like the inside of an aravel if I squinted in just the right way, but nothing else looked familiar. The shelves were adorned with human trinkets and oddities that provided me with no comfort. The books on the shelves were full of Chantry babble that confused me.  

I’ve wondered what fate had in store for me as I tossed and turned in my bed, desperately trying to find sleep. I felt as though I was diseased; a disease that inflicted me with loneliness and isolation, a disease that demanded expectation and only provided uncertainty. Unseeable symptoms, an unforeseeable future, the grasp of winter depression and angst had begun to settle its roots inside of me, clawing at me from the inside while the unfamiliar magic from this mark courses through my veins. I was the only Dalish elf that was drowning in this sea of unfamiliarity.

 _I hope day tomorrow proves difficult than today,_ was the last thought before my mind slipped into the Fade. Familiarity welcomed me with open arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of the chapter is a tribute to John Marsden's 'The Tomorrow Series', a series of novels that I hold very close to my heart.
> 
> \--
> 
> Solas/Ashawyn will begin next chapter~ I'll have it out either by Monday at the latest. :)


	3. The Beginning

**In that moment, everything changed.**

There was a myriad of undefinable emotions that flooded over me the first time Solas and I conversed in Haven; they swelled and fractured inside of me before I could pinpoint exactly what they were. He felt familiar, like a lost memory that comes back to haunt you while you’re trying to fall asleep.

He wasn’t a Dalish, but his mannerisms were like that of a Keeper; soft-spoken, curious and he possessed a power beyond my understanding. He was everything I had aspired to be, everything I had idolised about Deshanna. He was a puzzle that I wanted to solve.

As we conversed, I noticed that there was a note of undeniable sadness in his voice. It was as though he had fallen into a world where nothing felt familiar for him as well.  

He locked eyes with me and I felt a shiver pulsate through me as he stared the very core of my being.

“Every great war has its heroes, I’m just curious to see what you will be.”

_Expectations_.

Everyone at Haven had expectations of me, which I had not managed to fill yet despite my best efforts. I deflected his statement by asking him about his studies of ancient ruins. As he spoke of his studies, he spoke of spirits. I had never met a mage that had an affinity for speaking to those who existed beyond the Veil like I did. He spoke of them as friends who had aided him, educated him and even comforted him. Just as my da’len had done for me when I felt isolated from my clan. He resolved to stay to help close the Breach, despite the danger that he was in.

“You came here to help, Solas. I won’t let them use that against you.”

“How would you stop them?”

“However I had to.”

_I had found a kindred spirit amongst the chaos after all,_ I thought as I stared into his piercing ambiguously coloured eyes. _There is no way I will be able to survive this if I lose the only thing that feels slightly familiar._

“…Thank you,” he said as the slightest of smiles tugged on his lips.  

Now, when I look back, I can see that it was immediate. It was a slow burn, but the sparks that formed that day had begun an unquenchable flame. The moment we locked eyes in Haven, there it was, just like that; the person I had spent a lifetime perfecting began its disintegration at that moment. Despite the carnage it all brought to all our lives, I still don’t regret it. By losing everything I was introduced to myself for the first time.

Would I wish away what happened given hindsight? Not a chance.

Not a chance.

 

 


End file.
